


The Silken Fall of Snow

by DizzyDrea



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-21
Updated: 2011-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lifespan of a snowflake holds a lesson for Don.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Silken Fall of Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [numb3rs100](http://numb3rs100.livejournal.com/) Prompt #342 – Silk
> 
> This prompt was posted while I was on vacation in Disneyland last week. The parks had been decorated for Christmas, and they'd just started the Christmas fireworks display, which includes snow on Main Street just after. So, there I am, standing on Main Street USA in Disneyland in November, enjoying the snow falling all around me, and this drabble just comes to me. As inspirations go, it's not bad.
> 
> Originally posted on LiveJournal.
> 
> Disclaimer: Numb3rs belongs to The Barry Schindel Company, Scott Free Productions, CBS Television Studios and a lot of other people who aren't me. I'm doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

Don watched as the snow fell around him. The flakes drifted along, carried on the soft breeze until they fell silently on the leaves, the grass, his skin. Their silken texture caressed him softly as they melted into oblivion, leaving no trace of their existence behind. 

He wondered if that would be his legacy, when he finally left this earth. Would his life be like that snowflake; unique, beautiful, but ultimately futile in its brevity? 

He sighed. The moon lit the glittering remains of the snow, turning everything around him into diamonds. It was beautiful, peaceful. It didn't often snow in LA, but when it did, Don found himself inexorably drawn to it. 

He knew he wouldn't find the answers on the front lawn of the Craftsman at o-dark-thirty in the morning, but it didn't stop him from trying. Not that he'd find what he was looking for in Bradford's office, or his Rabbi's for that matter. 

He held out his hand, palm up, and watched as the flakes collected there, glittering in the moonlight. There was, he had to admit, a certain beauty in the idea of burning so brightly for so short a time. You could make an impact when you knew that your time was limited. 

And he supposed that was the answer to his questions, really. He knew he could die at any moment, whether in a traffic accident or at the hands of a perp. His only option, really, was to make sure that in the time he had, he made an impact. 

Protect the innocent. Arrest the guilty. 

As life's purposes go, it wasn't bad. 

And as he stood there, he could finally feel the peace he'd been seeking settle like a shroud of newly fallen snow around him, and knew he could rest. 

~Finis


End file.
